Most every year on Memorial Day weekend, we pack-up our
suitcases, gather all the hanging clothes, varied shoes and purses that will
match outfits of course, and gather up whatever goodies it is that we’re taking
for little eyes and ears to look at and listen to.
We sort out our separate medicine containers, filling the
individual compartment days with all the things that help us stay alive, along
with a load of vitamins that do their best to undo and counteract all the bad
things we may eat or drink. Next to that, a bag of snacks (many are the things
that the vitamins are attempting to counteract), and a cooler of assorted sodas
and water; because this is the way old folk travel. We are not about to spend
$2.00 for a soda or $1.50 for a honey bun. We would almost thirst and starve to
death first!
All will be strategically packed into the back of my truck,
making sure that nothing gets crushed or left behind. And all will be placed in
such a way that when I swivel to my left to get something out of the bag or the
cooler, I won’t wrench my back out as we’re riding down I10 driving 70+ miles
an hour.
And last, but certainly not least, will be the box fan. The
contraption that ensures no matter how well the hotel air conditioner works/or
not – whichever the case may be; I will not burn-up and it also drowns out all
the snoring that we both swear to sugar goes on whenever either of us is asleep
and the other is still wide awake suffering through it.
I made reservations weeks ago. Began preparing weeks ago.
Sent out group messages arranging dinners and lunches with folks so that we
could make sure we got to see everyone we needed/wanted to see. South Carolina
was to be our destination; it’s where my husband’s roots were created and it
was where he was raised all of his life and lived into early adulthood. All of
his/now our people, still live there and it’s quite the drive, but I love going
back home with him to see through his eyes, all the stories I have been told.
But it wasn’t to be. I had no idea when we made all of these
plans three weeks ago that the second coming of Noah’s Ark was about to occur.
That it was going to rain a deluge of water for seven days and seven nights
right smack in the middle of our annual mini-vacay.
I will admit that I was already second-guessing the trip in
my mind, worrying a bit about traveling in all that rain; but I’m a worrier,
that’s what I do. But when my husband started voicing some of those same
concerns and feeling me out about how I felt, I knew it wasn’t just me who was
concerned.
We cancelled the reservations at the last minute and we surely
hated to miss that trip. But sometimes as you grow older, you really do grow
wiser, and listening to your inner voice is something you actually do.
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